Stranger

Chapter 8: Jane

Jane frowned when she saw that it was closed. Ethan always welcomed students to his office no matter the day or time. In fact, he insisted everyone call him by his first name. He even had a hidden passageway that led to his bedroom on the third floor so he could rush to his students should they call on him afterhours by pressing a button on his desk that alerted him of such an occurrence. She'd never had to use it. Yet. But she knew the students who had and they had nothing but great things to say about him.

So why was his door closed? A meeting with professors, perhaps?

Furrowing her brow, Jane decided the best thing to do was knock.

"Enter," the voice on the other side of the door instructed.

Enter?

As Jane grabbed the doorknob and turned, she tried to figure out who was in there, because it most certainly wasn't Ethan. It almost sounded like—

"Oh."

It was.

Professor Depogare.

His head was bent over a pile of papers on the desk, a red pen in his right hand. He must be grading papers, which meant he had given his underclassmen trainees an assignment on the first day of school. How completely like him.

"Oh?" he questioned, sounding almost offended by her slip of tongue. He pressed his brow together as he regarded Jane with his midnight blue eyes. She knew that, technically, there was no possible way eyes could be that dark, but Depogare was the exception to that rule. Granted, she had never been close enough to him to confirm her hypothesis, but every time she looked at him during training, all she could see was midnight. She couldn't even distinguish his pupils from his irises.

Suddenly, he tilted his head and asked in his heavy Russian accent, "What happened to your face?"

Oh shit.

She must already have a lump forming on her forehead thanks to her textbook, which wasn't what she wanted given that she was going to go to a club tonight.

"Oh, nothing, really," she said through nervous laughter. Hopefully it didn't sound as fake to him as it did to her. "Just ran into something again. No big deal. Happens all the time."

He didn't seem to be amused by this in the slightest, and judging by the look on his face, he didn't believe her. Jane knew she was bad at lying but certainly he knew how clumsy she was. She had tripped in his classroom more than a number of times and he had no qualms about commenting on it. He wouldn't know how she really got the lump, right? There was no way.

Jane tried but failed to suppress a shiver as it slid down her spine. She knew that, given he had been her professor for the past five years, she should be used to the deep, rich velvet tone, but she couldn't help it. He had the sexiest voice she had ever heard in her entire life. The fact that he was Russian was icing on the cake. His ancestors came from Russia, so whenever he got frustrated, his Russian accent came out.

"Miss Cabot, is there a reason you've interrupted my grading other than to gawk at me?" he asked with a sneer.

It was just too bad that voice came out of ... that. Not to say that Professor Depogare was unattractive. For the most part, Jane was one of the few to admit he might have been passable when it came to his looks if it hadn't been for that jutting nose of his that looked as though it had been broken at least three times. He was tall, just over six feet, with broad shoulders and a fit body—from what she could tell at least. The black and white suit—the same black and white suit he wore every day—hid whatever semblance of a physique he had, but Jane was willing to bet that underneath all of that, there was an Adonis-type body. There had to be.

Because, besides that distracting nose, he had a pretty nice face. It was sculpted and sharp, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a mouth, which, if it wasn't scowling and frowning all the time, might have been actually nice to kiss. His jet-black hair was slicked back from his face like he stepped straight out of the nineteen-twenties, which only enhanced his jagged edges. Jane knew that Depogare was born sometime in the thirteen hundreds and only looked like he was in his late twenties. As long as he didn't open his mouth and reveal that he was, quite literally, an old soul.

Wait a minute. Did she just think it'd be nice to kiss Depogare's mouth?

"Well?" he said, thankfully breaking her out of her disturbing thoughts.

"Uh, sorry," she said, hoping she wasn't turning red, but knowing full-well that she was. "I was looking for Ethan."

"Dean Curtis," he corrected sharply. "Yes, well, he and Professor Campbell are on a recruitment. As if Ignis could use another one."

Jane was certain the last flippant remark was more for him than for her. He was Aqua's RH director after all, and any animosity he felt toward Ignis, and vice versa, was to be expected—even between professors. At least it explained why both Ethan and Will were gone. Normally when Ethan was gone, Will took over as dean. Since both were gone, Depogare was temporarily in charge. He must hate being second choice to Will. At this revelation, Jane felt herself smirk despite her attempt to stop it.

"Is there something funny, Miss Cabot?" he drawled, raising one questioning brow.

"No, sir," she said. "Thanks, but I'll just come back."

Without waiting for his response, Jane headed out the door and didn't allow herself to breathe until she reached the first floor. She thanked God she was an animus and her thoughts could not be read by Professor Depogare. Although technically, blocking out other people's thoughts was one of the first things a mental was taught and reading thoughts without a person's permission was thoroughly forbidden. She didn't know what would happen if he knew her thoughts, but she was certain his reaction would not have been pretty.

Food.

That was what she needed.

Her lack of sustenance was the only reason she could think of that explained why such thoughts invaded her mind in the first place.

--

QOTD: What supernatural powers would you want for yourself?

When I was younger, I thought for sure I wanted to read minds. Now? Not so much. I think I'd want invisibility or the ability to fly. Something like that. 

What about you?

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